Why don’t we give ourselves permission? Why do we struggle with our hearts and our bodies and the cores of our righteous and awesome selves? It’s tough to allow ourselves…
To not wash the dishes.
To wear that clingy top.
To paint a wall red.
To eat another Thin Mint.
To tell them you’d rather not have company tonight.
To let the kids run around naked all day.
To risk appearing like an unfit mother in public.
To let your pooch hang over your jeans.
To say I’m sorry.
To dance down the aisles.
To yell at the top of the mountain.
To cry during that movie.
To birth unhindered.
To say what you really mean.
To swim naked.
To give your kids ice cream two days in a row.
To sleep in.
To let the dust accumulate.
To throw something.
To question it all.
To ask for help.
To spend that $50 on a massage.
To say I love you to your reflection.
To need space.
To leave it unresolved.
To pick up the pieces.
To window shop.
To let the wind move you.
To chop it off.
To dye it pink.
To not do a second shift.
To give yourself a reprieve.
To whisper your secret.
To partake in pleasure.
Today, practice permission granting. Do it just once. No commitment to continue it if you don’t want to.
Lately, I’ve focused on granting myself permission to admit I am fantastic at certain things. This really is a hard one, isn’t it?
And it started off slow and easy. But once I did it, I started to notice all the other little ways in which I rock (isn’t even just publicly admitting something like that so hard to let yourself do?). So, my first A-ha moment was noticing how ingenious it was that I began wrapping the teensy, tiny rubberbands I use for my girls’ hair AROUND the handle of the brush.
Sounds simple. But listen, those pesky rubberbands used to be so hard to find when I needed them. But now? Oh, now they are right where I need them, when I need them. Voila! I’m a freakin’ genius.
And then it just snowballed from there. I am a kick ass mama for packing my kids’ lunch for a long errand run. I napped in the hammock instead of hanging laundry. No one can speed clean a house as fast as I can. I wrote what I’d been feeling and then read it aloud to him. I booked the nicer, more expensive hotel because I know we deserve it. I applied for food stamps. I let the beat move me and danced with my girls. Though it seemed cheesy, I whispered it to her in the midst of her labor because it felt right. I didn’t wear a bra. I allowed them to stay up until midnight, as we roasted S’mores. I said No. I said Yes.
Here is your permission slip. Now, tell me, what will/did you grant yourself?